Bad Drivers Lead To Injured Couch-Dudes
by Miss Misled-Bloodshed
Summary: A different take on how Devi met our favourite homicidal maniac. Somewhat an apology fic for my inactivity. And wow! 6,000 words! A new record for my oneshots! And it only took like, what, a week? Damn, I need rest. Haven't seen the back yard in a week, nearly. I HOPE YOU'RE HAPPY! ...Ahem. Anyhow, enjoy my sleep-deprived soul on Doc Manager. R R, and all that jazz. T for curses.


**Hopping right into the story, because I have nothing to say right now. ^^**

**Missyclaimer: I own nothing except the plot and Bertha, my crappy one hit OC.**

**By the way, Devi looks more like she did in the flashback about her and Johnny's date in I Feel Sick, because I think she was much better looking there than in the JtHM strip. Just sayin'.**

* * *

_'Oh shit, Bertha, we killed him! We're murderers! FOOK!'_

Lights. Flashing lights. Thumping music beating in time to Devi's heart. Chattering and laughing and shouting and cursing. Horrible words, unspeakable words. The smell of alcohol on everyone's breath except hers. Leering men and stupid women. Colours, so many colours. Blue, green, pink, black, yellow, indigo, rainbows taken from the sky and thrust into a oddly shaped building with no air conditioning.

Devi hated Saturday nights.

Well, actually, no. She didn't hate them. She only grew to resent their presence when she was forced to come out of her cosy apartment and chucked into an enclosed space surrounded by strangers. Disgusting, unhygienic, stupid, bad dancing strangers. Even she danced better than this, and her feet were practically on backwards. Though, her dancing surely couldn't be worse than the moves Bertha was pulling right now.

It was like she was chasing a fly in a circle. Or doing a ritualistic voodoo African American rain dance with an invisible stick being held above her head with her own pale hands. Yes, that was the only way to describe it. Bertha was pulling Matt Smith moves.

Devi really loved Bertha. They'd been best friends since second grade, so she was used to her friend's wild theories and strange behaviour. Like the time Bertha had brought in a fez for everyone in her homeroom. Or when she tried to make a T.A.R.D.I.S out of all the food in the cafeteria. Or when she had a worrying obsession with bow ties. But she had promised Devi that she was over her childhood fandoms. It seemed that Bertha was a very good liar.

Bertha had placed herself at the heart of the crowd on the dance floor, saying that everyone wanted to be near the bar so there would be more space to dance there. Devi just rolled her eyes and ordered two lemonades. Both of which were now empty, because Bertha had not left the dance floor since arriving, and Devi was thirsty.

Devi just leaned back in her seat and rubbed her eyes. What time was it? She looked at the digital clock above the door. 11:36. In seven hours her painting needed to be finished and given to Nerve Publishing. She shrugged.

She watched people twerking with an eyebrow raised.

She swirled a droplet of lemonade around in her glass.

She fiddled with a strand of shortish hair.

Wait.

FUCK.

**She wasn't even halfway through the painting.**

She grabbed both hers and Bertha's coats and rushed on to the floor, pushing past people to find her other crazy best friend. _Why did I let you bring me here in the first place?! I knew I had work to do. Dammit!_

Finally, she found her friend at the very heart of the crowd. Her red hair pulled into buns either side of her head and her nose piercing shining in the club lights. Devi stepped over a dancing green dog to grab her friend by the wrist and yank her out of there. 'Hey!' She heard her friend exclaim. 'I was pulling sweet moves, Dev, what's your problem?'

Devi continued to drag her friend through the hoarde of "dancers" and finally made it to the edge of the crowd. In her efforts to get out of the sweaty cluster, she knocked into a guy who, like a domino, knocked into another guy. The second guy, who had been knocked into by the first, turned and gave the first an angry look. I understand that I'm not being a great help into getting you to understand what I'm saying, so let me explain. The first guy, who had been knocked into by Devi and whom we will call Alfred for the time being, has knocked into the second guy whom we will call James for now-

**Go fuck yourself.**

Yes, James, alright. Sheesh.

Devi bit her lip and whispered sorry, even though the first punch had already been thrown and the whole club was thrown into a riot. Devi threw Bertha's coat at Bertha and her friend caught it and put it on, deciding now that it would probably be a good time to leave. The two dodged a beer bottle being thrown at them and exited the club, the cold air smacking them round the face as they rushed to the car. Bertha unlocked it from where she was and the two climbed in.

Exhausted and dazed, Bertha spoke first.

'Okay, and what was _that _about?'

Devi put her seatbelt on and ran a hand through her hair. 'I have to get home. I need to finish the painting. Why did I let you bring me out? I told you I had work to do!'

'And since when have I paid attention to your work? C'mon, Dev, live a little!' Said Bertha, starting up the car. Devi groaned and rubbed her temples. 'I was planning on actually getting a full hour's sleep tonight, but I can't do that now. Dammit, Berth!' Devi thumped the seat.

'Call in sick.' Said Bertha simply as the car backed out of the space.

'I can't. This is the biggest commission they've asked me to do since January. I can't just take a day off for no reason. I'll finish the painting by sunrise.'

Bertha looked at her friend in a worried way, which was unusual for her. Usually Bertha Andrea Logote was worry free. She didn't even panic when she got a D in Math during their last high school year, even though her mom had promised dire consequences should she get anything less than a B-. Bertha was laid back and rode the waves. Devi was stressed and overworked.

' Devi, look at yourself. You're a mess.' They turned onto the main road, heading to Devi's apartment. 'Nerve Publishing are taking advantage of you, girl. They know you'll push everything to the side in order to do this commission. You need to set some time for yourself. That's what tonight was about.'

'I didn't enjoy it at all, Bertha. You know I hate clubs.'

'Try something new! Okay, so I took you and you didn't like it. No problem! Next time we'll go somewhere you want to go.'

'There won't be a next time. At least not in the middle of the night. If you want to go out somewhere at least ring me before you spam me over the intercom.' Devi lowered the window and took a breath of the night air. It ran down her throat and calmed her down. She looked at the speedometer. 'Can't we go any faster?'

'No can do, honey. I'm already going 45 in a 30 zone. Chill out, we'll be there in no time.'

'No time isn't fast enough. I wish I owned a teleport machine.'

'What about a vortex manipulator? Lighter and more travel friendly. Plus it makes an awesome sound when you use it.'

'Let me guess, another Doctor Who reference?' Devi said, bored.

'Absolutely.' Grinned Bertha. She turned down a narrow road with only her headlights as a guide and trees towering over them both. 'Though I guess if I owned a T.A.R.D.I.S, I would have no need for a car. Just think, I could have an extra two hours in bed, get dressed, dig into fish fingers and custard and be at college in no time! It would be-'

'LOOK OUT!' Shrieked Devi, only just spotting a tall lanky silhouette crossing the road just yards away from them. Bertha swore and tried to swerve around him, but it was too late. The bonnet of the car hit him head on and the lanky shadow flew up in the air, did an awkward 360 in mid air and smacked his head off the hood of the car. Devi was shellshocked. The car screeched to a stop and the two best friends' heads smacked against the dashboard. 'Aagh, my giant blue head!' Bertha cried. Both of them stayed in the car for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Devi spoke in a very shaky voice. ' Bertha, we need to get out of the car.'

'Nuh uh, my head has been split in two.'

'So has his! Probably. Come on, we need to see if he's alright.'

'Oh, yeah, he's only just been slammed into with 1.5 tons of solid metal, done a somersault in mid air and smacked his head on the hood of my car. I'm sure he's dandy.'

Devi unbuckled herself shakily and opened the door to the car. She climbed out, not even bothering to search for cars. This was a pretty abandoned road. There were no houses down here except for the block of apartments, and even that wasn't in a very nice district. She heard the other door open and moans come from out of it. Bertha was getting out too. Scared, Devi edged around the car to see the damage that had been inflicted.

Devi couldn't see the dude's face, but she could kind of see the figure he owned. He was quite tall, and very skinny. He probably hadn't eaten in days. He was wearing dark clothes and the toes of his boots shone in the headlights. His face was turned into the road and invisible to her, so he could've been any age. Devi tried to not vomit as she saw a small pool of blood sleep out from under the body, and instead looked at Bertha, who was still holding her head and clenching her jaw.

'Oh- oh, shit, Bertha, we killed him! We're murderers! FOOK!' Shouted Devi, pulling her hair in exasperation. 'NP isn't going to want someone with a criminal record on their team! I'm doomed!'

'Check his pulse.' Said Bertha. Devi hesitated before bending down and taking the dude's criminally skinny arm and pressing two fingers on his wrist. At first she felt nothing and panicked, but then her sensitive nerves picked up on a small tapping. He was alive, but he wouldn't be for long if he stayed here all night. Devi didn't know why she did it, but her common sense kicked in for once and she began to lift the dude's body.

'What the hell are you doing?' Asked Bertha. Devi looked at her as if to say, _a__re you fucking serious? _'I'm getting him help, dumbass. We can't leave him like this.' Devi cringed when she felt blood seep through her shirt. She tried to ignore it and carried him bridal style to the back seat of the car. 'Open the door, Bertha, I have no hands free.' Bertha glared at Devi but did as she was told.' But so help me if he ruins my seat with his bodily fluids.'

Devi carefully laid the dude lengthwise across the seats and climbed into the front herself, strapping herself in.

'I kinda feel like we're stealing evidence, Devi. Is this a bad thing?' Asked Bertha as she strapped herself in too and started the car. She adjusted the mirror to look at the barely alive dude in the back seat.

'Not if we're trying to help the evidence. If we leave him, he could die.'

'But if we take him home, he could wake up, get confused and try to attack us. He might think we've been doing things to him in his sleep.'

Devi chuckled a little. 'What's with the _we? _You're more likely to do that than me.'

* * *

Devi was surprised at how easy it was to carry the stranger up her apartment stairs. He was extremely light, like all his internal organs and bones had been replaced by feathers. Though Devi knew this wasn't true, because she could feel the dagger-like joints of him nearly tearing a hole through her shirt. He wasn't healthy.

Bertha took Devi's keys from her pocket and unlocked the door. They both stumbled inside and Devi crossed the room and laid the dude on the sofa carefully. Bertha went into the kitchen to find some gauze or painkillers in case he woke up and they needed to stuff something in his mouth to shut him up.

Devi carefully pressed down on the dude's chest to find where all the blood was spilling from. She found a wound that wasn't very deep but was still the source of the blood and took a tissue from the box on the table beside the couch. With caution, and feeling quite embarrassed, she took the long black coat off him and laid it on the floor, and then took the ends of his long sleeved shirt and tugged it off him gently. His chest was exposed and Devi felt blood rush to her cheeks. She was definitely blushing. The dude was not exactly pale but not tanned either, which made Devi think he had a Caucasian background or something. Maybe Mexican. She wasn't too good with places or skin tones (translation: it's actually the author who isn't good with this stuff, she just wanted to impress ya'll and failed miserably TT-TT).

His ribs poked out from the skin and made him look even more skeletal. Jeez, when was the last time he ate? Christmas? Devi took her tissue and wiped around the wound, trying not to touch the insides. Why had his torso taken the brunt? His head had slammed down on the bonnet incredibly hard. His chest should've only got a few scrapes, and not even that. His head _was _bruised, though. She continued to wipe around the wounds with a dry tissue. Then she remembered: bactine. Tissues won't stop the cuts getting infected. They needed bactine.

'Bertha,' Devi called into the kitchen. Bertha's head appeared around the doorway. 'You yelled?' She said, grinning.

'Get the bactine.' Said Devi. Bertha disappeared back into the kitchen and Devi heard cupboard doors being opened and closed. Then Bertha came into the room with a bottle of disinfectant in her black polished hands. ' Here ya go, Dev. Want a cup of coffee? Or fish fingers and custard?' Devi retched. 'Just espresso for me, thanks.' Bertha shrugged and went back into the kitchen.

Devi poured a little bactine on the tissue and dotted around the chest wounds. After finishing with his chest she moved to his head. There was a little scrape below his left eye and a big indigo bruise splashed across his forehead. He also had a puffed up lip. Devi was about to pour the bactine on the tissue when-

**THUMP THUMP THUMP.**

Devi almost spilt the disinfectant all over the shirtless stranger on her couch. She swore and jumped up to get the door.

'Hey, Devi, open up! It's me, Tenna!'

Devi opened the door and grabbed Tenna by the collar, thrusting her inside. 'Woah, hey, I know it's always nice to see me but that was kind of taking it overboard!' Said Tenna as Devi shut and bolted the door behind her. ' Shut up, Tenna, or you'll get the Fat Psychic Lady on us again.'

'Ooh, sorr-ee, touchy.' Said Tenna, giving Spooky a squeeze. This only irked Devi and she growled at the squeaky toy. Tenna smirked and turned to sit on the couch, before seeing that somebody was already there. 'Woah! Who's that?'

'It was an accident...' Said Devi, sliding off her high horse. Tenna raised an eyebrow as Bertha came in with a bowl of fish-custard goodness and a steaming mug of coffee. ' Hey, Tenna! What brings you here?'

'Well, I'm glad somebody asked me that!' She gave an accusing look at Devi, who had taken her place at the head of the stranger, disinfectant in hand. 'I actually just came by to collect the Alien Trilogy I lent Devi. It's Movie Night with me and Spooky. But that can wait. Who the sweet Jebus is the dude on the couch?'

'Oh, just someone I ran over today. Want some fishy custard?' Bertha held out the bowl for Tenna, and Tenna squealed in delight. 'Yes! Fish fingers and custard, my favourite!' She took a dripping finger from the bowl and ate it in one bite. 'Mm mmm. Belicimo. But no offense, Bertha, you run over someone nearly _every _day. What's so special about him?'

'Oh, it wasn't my idea, Devi wanted to play Good Samaritan. Maybe it's cause the dude is hot.' Grinned Bertha, sitting down on the couch opposite the one occupied. Tenna sat down too, squeezing Spooky in her hand. Devi looked up and stared at Bertha like she was an impossible math equation. ' What?'

'Well, it's true! Look at him!' Said Bertha, munching on another fish finger. ' He is pretty cute. Impossibly skinny, but cute.'

Devi stood up and took a few steps back. She looked at the dude properly for the first time. His black hair was unkempt and wild, and it shone in the lamplight. His eyes were deeply shadowed which suggested he probably didn't get enough sleep at all, but somehow it was strangely attractive on him. He was tall and very skinny (as I've mentioned numerous times in the past 2,000 words) and his long legs hung over the other end of the couch, his black skinny jeans clinging to his legs. All of the girls tilted their heads at the same time and took in his appearance. Yes, now that they absorbed him, he was most definitely very cute.

'Huh.' Said Devi. 'I guess you have a point...' She shook her head as she processed what she had just said. 'Wait, what? Bertha, you almost killed him!'

'So? That doesn't make him any less kawaii. I personally like scars on a dude.'

'Don't be so insensitive! He probably has a family worried sick about him! Oh God, what if they call the police and organize a search party?'

'Chill out! We'll clean him up, dress him again and when he wakes up we'll send him on his merry way!' Said Tenna. Bertha looked at Tenna and got her signature evil glint in her eye. 'Well, not until I have some kinky fun with him. It's not every day I nearly murder a _hottie._'

Devi clenched her teeth. 'Don't you dare. He's helpless. Look at him!'

'Oh, don't worry darlin', I'm looking...' Both Tenna and Bertha fell about giggling like goblins while Devi rolled her eyes. She took a sip of her coffee and moved to the bedroom where she changed out of her clothes and into her nightwear. When she came back into the room Bertha and Tenna were babbling like mad.

'..And then he said, "Oh, you've redecorated! I don't like it."' Both of them burst into laughter. 'Okay, be honest, who was a better Doctor? David Tennant or Matt Smith?' Asked Bertha.

'Oh God! Um... I'd have to say Tennant.'

'Really? I'm all for Matt.'

'Yes, but David had so many great moments! Like when he unlocked the T.A.R.D.I.S like a car, or-' Devi interrupted them both. 'I don't mean to be rude, but you guys need to leave. I have a painting to do and you guys rattling on about your beloved Doctor Who is going to drive me crazy.'

'Well, okay...' Said Bertha. Tenna nodded and stood up from the couch, brushing fish finger crumbs off her combat trousers. ' Hey, Bertha, want to come watch Alien, Aliens and Alien Resurrection with me? It'll be fun!'

'Sure!' Bertha stood up and wiped her mouth. 'See you tomorrow, Devi. Bye, Unconscious Cutie.' She said. 'Be good.'

'He's unconscious, Bertha, he's not going to try to kill me as soon as you close the door.'

'I was talking to _you_.' Said Bertha. She wiggled her eyebrows (there's a lot of eyebrow movements in this fic) suggestively at her best friend. 'You know you want him.'

'Shut up and get out.' Said Devi, blushing. Both Bertha and Tenna cackled maniacally and made for the door. But Bertha didn't exit the apartment without looking back at Devi, scooping up a significantly large amount of custard from the bowl with her finger and licking it with a perverted look on her face. Devi darted towards her but Bertha just laughed and closed the door. This left Devi alone with a stranger on her couch and less than five hours to do her painting.

She sighed and went to the kitchen to make more coffee. Tonight was going to be another sleepless night.

* * *

She emerged from the pond of dreams with a sore neck. Not only that, but as she peeled her face off the surface she'd obviously collapsed on, her skin felt tight and wet and she couldn't see out of her right eye. Devi brought a hand up to it and cursed when paint came off on her hand. She wiped it on her shirt and looked around.

It was morning, and the early morning rays of sun were manoeuvring around the black curtains and skimming her pale skin. Tiny dots of dust floated about the sunlight and around the room. Devi shielded her eyes and yawned.

'Umph... how... how long was I asleep?' She asked herself, stupidly. She looked up at the numerous clocks she had placed around the room to constantly keep track of the time. It was a weird obsession of hers. Not as weird as Bertha's, but still eccentric.

She saw the clock.

She swore at the top of her voice.

She pulled her top over her head and ran to her wardrobe. She flung the doors open and pulled out the first top she saw, a plain black hoodie, nothing amazing. Yanking it over her head, she grabbed a comb and rushed to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Multitasker, bitches!

She emerged from the bathroom, not exactly spick and span but acceptably clean. She went back into her bedroom and took a large cloth and wrapped it around her painting, before securing it around the back and tucking it under her arm. She grabbed her coat and boots from behind the door and slipped them on.

She forgot to be quiet when she entered the sitting room where the unconscious dude was lying. He stirred slightly as she cringed. The last thing she needed now was to have to deal with a confused, injured stranger waking up and not knowing where he was. Not to mention that he was shirtless. Waking up in that situation wasn't exactly going to make him the friendliest; even if he did turn out to be a nice person.

Then again, she thought, I can't just leave him here, alone. And I can't miss this appointment either. She sighed. Dilemmas! She looked at her watch. Five minutes to get to Nerve Publishing and half and hour before she started work. Could she?

Too late, she was already getting out the paper.

In 2 minutes she had stuck the note on the refrigerator and left the apartment. She now had barely 3 minutes to get to NP. She came to the conclusion that she would have to sprint.

**A few hours later, back at the apartment...**

His head is throbbing. It spins and melts and contorts. It hurts so bad! What the fuck happened?

Couch-Dude sat up and stroked his temples with the tips of his fingers. The icy coldness of his hand numbs the pain slightly, but not much. His eyes were sticky with sleep. That's a first. He slept? Goddamn, he was breaking his personal record!

He tried to sit up but his brain-meats pulsed painfully and forced him back down. This made sleep call to him again, and its voice was so persuading, he could simply just float away on this wonderfully soft couch... his searing head being lightened by these heavenly cushionsssssssss...

He jerked awake. Huh? Soft couch? Heavenly cushions? This didn't feel like his couch at all. His couch and cushions were almost rock hard to prevent the temptation of sleep. So, if this wasn't his couch... who's was it? With much effort, he pried his eyes open and rubbed them to get a good look at his surroundings.

Well, for a start, he was in somebody's sitting room. A female's, if he wasn't mistaken. Purple walls, creamy carpet with a couple of paint stains here and there. Another couch opposite the one he was lying on. There were paintings hung around the entire room, and they were nothing short of beautiful. Expressive, dark pieces of somebody's soul. She had demons. Just like him. The couch he was lying on was black with red cushions. They also had paint stains. He was in the apartment of a fellow artist, if he could even call himself that. Happy Noodle Boy didn't exactly challenge his artistic prowess.

Couch-Dude's attention came away from the room enclosed around him to his own body. To his horror, he found that his shirt was no longer on his body. He felt the blood rush to his cheeks: never had this much skin been exposed to anybody, never mind a complete stranger. He wondered if maybe the madam had tried something. To make sure, he checked under his pants. Yup, his underwear was still on. Thank Cthulhu.

He reached down with his arm to the floor beside the couch to find his shirt. His long fingers only came into contact with carpet. His trench coat was hanging on the back of the front door, though. Maybe he could just take that and go.

But something tugged at Couch-Dude, gently asking him to stay. _Well, this is quite a nice change from my house. You can actually see the natural colour of the carpet._

With much effort and wincing, Couch-Dude managed to slip his legs off the couch and pry himself in a sitting position. His head felt like it had been detached from his neck, put on a merry-go-round and placed back on his neck again. Painkillers. He needed painkillers. So badly, the pain was getting steadily worse. Carefully, Couch-Dude got to his feet and stumbled to the kitchen in search of pills.

The kitchen was relatively small and normal looking. Shiny sides, two chairs and a table to the side. Flowers that drooped sadly in their vase. Nothing amazing, but quite impressively clean, to say the least. Couch-Dude checked all the cupboards until he came to a little packet of pills. He picked one out and looked for the glasses, before pouring himself a glass of water. Taking a sip, he leant his skinny, lean frame on the counter.

A highlighted piece of paper on the fridge caught his eye. It looked like it was addressed to him. How he knew this, he didn't know. He reached across the counter and took the note. The handwriting was rushed and scribbly, but he could make out the words okay.

_Dear Couch-Dude,_

_I wanted to write this so you don't freak out at the prospect of being in a complete stranger's apartment. It's only polite, and I'd like to keep my criminal record clean. Adultnapping doesn't really sit well with aspiring artists._

_Last night I was out at a club with my friend quite late. Neither of us drink, so if you're looking to press charges for drink driving I am willing to testify against it. Never have and never will touch the bottle. Anyway, it was a complete accident, you just walked out in front of us. We tried to swerve, but we hit you head on and you were unconscious. You were out since 12-ish last night. What you were doing out that late is none of my business; it would be hypocritical of me anyway. So after we knocked you down we brought you back to my apartment and that's where you are right now. Feel free to help yourself to anything in the refrigerator, I'm going grocery shopping after work so I'll have enough._

_I used bactine on the wounds and gauzed you up. I recommend painkillers if it hurts afterwards. _

_Get well soon, I guess._

_Devi._

'Devi...' read Couch-Dude out loud. Unique, the perfect name for a creative person.

He replaced the note on the fridge and drank the rest of his water, replaying the note in his head. She apologised. That's new: usually nobody apologised to him whether it was his fault or not. They just shoved past and glared at him. Then they ended up in his cellar, begging for their life. Snot and tears and blood, all mixed up in one horrible, disgusting mess. Pathetic, inferior human bodily fluids, he concluded.

Just then, the phone rang, and it made Couch-Dude jump. He wasn't used to the sounds of a normal household, never mind the phone. Unsure as to whether or not he should answer or not, he edged towards the phone slowly. He picked it up on the last ring.

'...Hello?' He asked into the phone. A young woman's voice spoke back at him.

'Oh! You're awake. Um... I was just checking on you. Uh, are... are you alright?'

Couch-Dude hesitated, not sure how to answer. Was he alright? His head was still pounding and he was finding it difficult to stand upright. 'I guess so. You're Devi, right?'

'Yeah. That's me.'

'Well, um, I'm okay. A little confused as to where I am, but otherwise... peachy.'

'Oh, okay. Well, um, your shirt's in the dryer. It had blood all over it, so I washed it. I didn't do your pants because... well, I think we both know why. I put it in a few hours ago, so it should be done any minute.' Surely enough, as soon as she finished that sentence, the dryer stopped. Couch-Dude didn't waste time, he held the phone between his bony shoulder and ear and opened the dryer door, retrieving his now bright white and black shirt from inside. He held the phone in his hand and tugged his shirt over his head, and felt the bare skin be covered once again. He breathed a sigh of relief. That much skin being exposed was making him feel uncomfortable, even though he was alone. 'Okay?'

'Yeah.' Said Couch-Dude. 'Uh, Devi?'

'Mm?' Said Devi from the other end.

'Where are you right now?' There was a pause. 'Why?'

'I want to come by, say thank you properly. If your boss is okay with it.'

Another pause, a few milliseconds longer this time. 'Okay, I don't see why not. Pendragon Books on the High Street. The big purple book shop with gold lettering.' Couch-Dude nodded even though Devi couldn't see. 'Okay. I'll be there in five minutes.'

'Alright, bye.' And she hung up. Couch-Dude put the phone down and went into the sitting room to grab his coat. He slipped it on his thin arms and felt in his pockets for some change. He was originally going to buy a Brainfreezy with what little money he had, but now he had a different idea.

* * *

Couch-Dude stood outside Pendragon Books about 5 minutes later, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. They weren't very fresh or bright, but they were the best he could do.

He took a breath and strode up to the door, and as he pushed it open the bell on the top rang. The woman at the counter glanced up at the door and looked him up and down with a sneer, before returning to her celebrity magazine. Couch-Dude gritted his teeth and ignored it. Instead he went up to her. ' What do you want, weirdo?' She snapped. Couch-Dude tried to keep his temper straight.

'I'm looking for someone named Devi. I believe she works here?' He said to the counter-bitch. She glared at him under heavily eyeshadowed eyelids. ' And so what if she does?'

'I'd like to see her.'

The woman groaned and chewed her gum. ' Devi, some weirdo goth freak wants you. And he brought weeds!' She shouted behind her towards a row of bookshelves. A black haired woman appeared from behind them: her hair was shortish and choppy, and even from this distance he could see her eyes were neon green. She wore the same uniform the counter-bitch did, a simple red shirt and name tag. She was simple, yet stunning. She looked about the same age as Couch-Dude, minus a few years.

'Brianna, that's no way to treat our customers. They're the ones paying for your breast implants, remember?' Said Devi. Brianna looked affronted and glared at the naturally beautiful woman. Devi turned to Couch-Dude. 'Sorry about her, she's a cow. To put it in the nicest way possible.' Couch-Dude chuckled. He then remembered that he had a bouquet of flowers in his hand. 'Oh, uh, here. I got you these. 'Cause you did save my life, and all. Thank you, by the way.'

Devi took the flowers and sniffed them appreciably. She smiled and looked back up at Couch-Dude. ' Thank you. They're beautiful!'

'You're welcome.'

Devi smiled again and put the flowers in her shoulder bag carefully. She then turned to Couch-Dude and beckoned him towards the back of the shop. 'What kind of books do you like?' She asked.

'All kinds, really. I can devour Lovecraft like a bag of chips on the right day. Poe is quite nice too.' Replied Couch-Dude. Devi chuckled. 'Same as me. Have you read the 'Necronomicon' yet?'

'Not all the way through. Kept getting distracted.'

**_Yes... distracted...human screams are very annoying, aren't they? Why can't they learn to die quietly?_**

_No, shut up, Mr. Fuck! Not now! I've just met someone who isn't a social maggot, you are not going to screw it up!_

'Well then,' Said Devi, interrupting Couch-Dude's mental battle with one of his other parts. 'I guess you can take this, then. Nobody ever comes in for Lovecraft, they all seem to want the pornographic stuff. It's a nightmare trying not to laugh while checking it out.' Devi handed Couch-Dude a hardback copy of the Necronomicon, a little battered and dog eared at he corners but otherwise in great condition. Couch-Dude took it and thanked Devi. 'You're welcome.' She said.

' And thank you for last night, too. I'd probably be dead if it weren't for you.'

'Oh... that's okay, it was what any remotely decent person would do. I couldn't just leave you there. Speaking of which, are you alright? I thought you might have some serious head trauma after it all.'

'I guess you can say I recover quickly.' Said Couch-Dude, simply. Devi nodded. 'Well, I'm sorry, but I really need to get back to work. My co-workers have huge sticks up their butts about visitors during work. Especially after I walked in on Brianna and her boyfriend getting down and dirty in the restricted section.'

'Okay, then, Miss Devi, I'll leave. Thank you for everything. It really does mean a lot.'

'You're welcome-' Started Devi, before realizing she didn't know his name. She called back to him as he was reaching for the doorknob. 'By the way, Couch-Dude, I never got your name!'

Couch-Dude stopped and smiled. He then turned to Devi, and dark brown eyes met poisonous green ones. ' Johnny C. But you can call me "Nny" for short.' And with that, he opened the door and slipped through. The bell that hung above the door seemed to tinkle long after he went.

* * *

**Only TheGamingLemon fans will find the hidden characters in this shot.**

**Well, I can't say I'm very proud of this, but it's been whirling around for a while, so I thought I'd just do it. It's part of my new regime to get a story/request updated/uploaded at least once a week.**

**And yes, I made Bertha like Doctor Who! Mainly because it's all I've been watching all week, and I'm watching 'The Vampires of Venice' right now. **

**Bertha isn't exactly an OC, because she has been seen in two episodes of Invader Zim, Megadoomer and Attack of the Saucer Morons. She is in the car in front of Zim in Megadoomer and can be seen for a split second in Attack of the Saucer Morons behind GIR when he is dancing in the club. I thought she looked quite cool so I made her into a person with a name. Bertha is the least Mary Sue-ish name I could think of, and anyway, she reminds me of Bertha from Fred the Movie (the one played by Jeanette McCurdy).**

**To Guest Occultist Kitten: Yes, indeed I have heard of Creature Feature! I was listening to them way before I discovered JtHM. My username is part of the lyrics to 'Buried Alive', actually. Thank you so much for your lovely review to _The Title Has Yet To Occur To Me. _I hope you're reading this, as seeing as you have no account I can't PM you to thank you.**

**Thanks for reading! Please review and favourite, it always makes me feel fuzzy! You DO want me to feel fuzzy, don't you? **

**Bye bye, chickens!**


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